Clean-cut
by Fic99
Summary: Steve finds Bucky at a homeless shelter. Some Stucky. M for references to drugs, addiction, sex, etc. One-shot.


"Bucky?"

"Who's Bucky?"

Bleary eyes in a rugged face. A metal arm covered by a long sleeve and a stiffly worn glove.

The eyes look up into kind blue orbs. A blonde guy. Clean-cut. The kind you'd take home to your mother if you were a chick, or if your mother didn't mind her son being into fellas.

The guy seemed familiar... somehow. But the flash of understanding was gone before it had chance to truly spark.

"It's _Steve_ ," the blonde guy says, kind of choked-up.

Is he supposed to know this guy? Is that why Blonde-guy's so sad?

He coughs to cover his frustration, or maybe just 'cause his chest hasn't been too great these last couple of weeks, "Nice to meet you," he murmurs. "What's a guy like you doin' in a place like this?"

Damn, he hadn't meant that to sound like some cheesy pick-up line. He'd genuinely wondered what Mr. Perfect-over-here was doing in a homeless shelter.

"Looking for you, Bucky."

He looks Mr Perfect up and down. Guy doesn't _look_ like one of _them_ – people like him: the rough sleepers, the guys he'd seen in parks and under bridges, the guys who'd given him the stuff to take away the pain...

But neither does he look like one of the folks who helped them out – here, at the shelter, and elsewhere. No, he looks like the people who got everything going for them; the kind that ignore you, even if they step on your hand while you're sleepin' on the kerb.

"I don't know who that is," he tells blondie.

"I know," and jeez, is blondie gonna cry or something? "And that's ok Buck. We... we were friends. A long time ago."

"Friends, huh?"

Blondie nods.

"You got any pills?"

 _"What?!"_

"Pills. Pretty much anything'll do. Oxy's best though. I'll let you bareback me for Oxy – you can rough me up a bit too, if y'want; lots of guys like to put a little ownership on this handsome face o' mine. Anything but Oxy, and it'll be a quick blow... 'Less you got some cash instead. So, which is it?"

Blondie looked... _shocked._

But usually 'friends' meant someone he could score pills from in return for favours. He didn't mind taking some cock, or getting a few bruises, if it meant he could get his hands on some Oxy. Small price, really.

"That's not..." Mr. Perfect's actually _blushing_ as understanding hits him, "that isn't what I meant Buck. _Really._ I'm here to help – not to... not for anything like _that."_

"Oh yeah?" he looks Mr Perfect up and down; true, he don't _look_ interested – looks embarrassed, sure, but not _interested,_ "So why _are_ you here?"

Blondie's shoulders slump a little, "Like I said, I'm here to help," the guy holds a hand out to him, bending down a little to where he's sat, on one of the benches the volunteers put out when the cots are all full, "if that's what you want?"

He looks at the hand. Jeez, even Mr Perfect's _hands_ are perfect. He don't know whether to trust this guy – no-one's _this_ good, are they?

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, Buck," and the guy's eyes _seem_ honest, "but you _would_ have to get yourself clean. No Oxy, or pills, or whatever. No..." the guy blushes again, "no... _turning tricks."_

He looks at blondie harder... 'turning tricks...' that's the kind of phrase _he_ used; the kind that no-one else seemed to, the kind that the other rough sleepers had told him was old-fashioned.

No Oxy, though? Was this guy crazy?

"Sounds like a catch to me," he mutters uncertainly.

Blondie's face kind of... _crumples._ And that makes him feel guilty for some reason. What has _he_ got to feel guilty for? It was _this guy_ who was tryin' to take his Oxy away.

Fuck, are those _tears_ in blondie's eyes?! Oh, man! What's he s'posed to do _now?_

 _"Hey, man_ ," he mumbles, "don't get all... soft... I ain't worth it, honest."

"Yes Bucky," the guy whispers, "you are. You just don't remember it, sweetheart."

 _A flash of something. Blonde hair and blue eyes in pale dawn light. Flesh beneath his flesh; soft, warm, loving._

Bucky really _looks_ at the guy, "You look familiar buddy," he says, "maybe we _did_ know each other... once. I ain't the same guy I used to be. I know that. I, uh, I don't remember much 'bout... anything, really. I know that's weird..."

"That's fine Buck, it's fine, honest!" there's hope in blondie's eyes now, "Just... say you'll _try_ and get clean buddy... I can _help_ you Buck!"

Maybe it's Mr Perfect's earnestness, or the nagging feeling that the guy may be right – that maybe they _did_ know each other – but he finds himself nodding.

"I guess," he agrees, "I guess I could _try._ I'm not... I... I get kind of _weird_ without my Oxy though pal... it ain't pretty. You know what you're letting yourself in for?"

"Whatever it takes Buck. I'm with you til the end of the line."


End file.
